To My Sweet Boys,
I have a confession to make: I never wanted to have boys.
I am sure I briefly considered the concept and I am sure I knew there was a likelihood that I would have boys someday, but I never wanted to have boys. I never dreamt of being a mother to boys or wondered what it would be like to have you in my home.
Boys were dirty. And loud. And ill-mannered. And boy clothes? Well, let’s just say that the thought of shopping for boys was about as exciting as me being out in the snow. And we all know how I feel about that.
I’m sorry. Instead, my dreams were filled with little girls—lots of pink and bows and tights and braids. I imagined a cute little tomboy, but an actual boy was not something I wanted—ever. Girls, I get. I understand them because, well, I am one. They talk a lot and they are emotional and prone to drama and they get hurt and they change their clothes no less than five times a day. I know. But at least I know and understand.
Who can understand boys? Who can understand the noise and the mess and the weird noises and the sense of humor and the sports and the clothes that don’t match?
Boys are just different and weird. In my mind, there wasn’t anything to do with a boy. No tea parties, no playing dress-up, no sweet snuggles on the couch.
I’ve been wrong about a lot of thing in my life, but probably never more so than this. I’m almost twelve years into this mother-of-boys-thing and let me tell you: It’s awesome.
God knew I needed you. He knew that my life would be filled with so much fun, so much laughter, so much adventure (and yes, so much dirt and noise.) The thought of not having you boys in my life makes my heart ache. Each of you are so unique and yet so completely boy.
Caleb is our
obsessive passionate one. First it was trains. Then it was matchbox cars. Then it was knights, swords, and pirates. He moved on to Legos. He went through phases of intense love for soccer, for being a goalie, for office supplies (one of my favorites), for Star Wars, and for running. He then moved on to —and is now still entrenched in — the world of sports. He knows all the players, all the scores, all the teams, and all the games. Me on the other hand? I just learned there is a pro-football team in North Carolina. I love Caleb and all the passion and excitement he brings to our family. He’s a mini-me.
Caleb is also our creative one. Where other people see trash or chaos, Caleb sees something incredible. He has been creatively solving problems since he was little. When he was four, he was frustrated that his bike wouldn’t stand up (Indonesian bikes usually don’t have kickstands.) He looked around the yard, found the perfect stick, and then shoved it up under his bike so it would stay standing. When we went to India in 2010, I had to spend the three weeks telling Caleb that no, he couldn’t bring trash back to Indonesia with us, no matter what cool thing he planned to build out of it. Caleb’s Lego creations are nothing short of amazing. Working trap doors, moving parts, intricate detail (I’ve had to learn not to touch these inventions since I have a tendency to break any Lego creation I touch.) Caleb—or as he is known around our house, Cabe— has an incredible mind and heart and sensitivity and I can’t wait to see where his passion and creativity take him.
Levi is our funny one. If Caleb is a mini-me, Levi is a mini-dad. Levi’s entire existence, I am sure, depends on the ability to make himself laugh. If it’s not funny, it’s not worth saying or doing. We’ve had to spend time over the years making sure that Levi’s laughter isn’t at the expense of someone else, but for the most part, it really is all fun and games with Levi. I’ll never forget Caleb perfectly lining up all his matchbox cars through the living room and Levi, not quite eight months old, crawling as fast as he could toward them in order to bring disorder to Caleb’s perfect order. And he did it with a huge grin on his face. And then there was that time Levi threw his underwear on the ceiling fan and when I walked in, he flipped the switch so the underwear would fly through the room. That’s our Levi.
But you know what else is our Levi? The boy who helps his little sisters make pink and purple pancakes. The first time it happened is a moment that will forever be etched in my memory. I came downstairs in our house In Wanggsa and I saw the little girls standing their in their aprons. Levi had gotten everything ready and he was helping them make pancakes. Pink and purple food coloring had been used at the girls’ request. Not quite how most seven-year-old boys spend their time! Levi is sweet and gentle and his eyes sparkle when he laughs. Everyone loves Levi and his seems to be the glue that holds the rest of us together. Life is just more fun if our Beaver is around.
And then there is sweet Z-man. I wasn’t so sure about having another boy. I had learned how amazing boys were, but my only experience had been with two little boys (the two-year age difference barely noticeable). After watching Caleb and Levi spend their entire lives playing and laughing and roughhousing together, I was worried about Zach. With two sisters just older than him, would he miss out on all the fun you older boys had together? I worried he wouldn’t have anyone to play swords with, to build Legos with, or to throw a football with.
But one day it dawned on me: Zach may not have a brother close in age like Levi and Caleb, but he has something neither of them had— two older brothers. Two young men to look up to. Two young men to care for him. Two young men to show him and teach him everything he wants to know. And seeing the three of you together, well, let’s just say my heart ends up in a big ‘ol puddle on the floor.
Zachary is just about the cutest kid alive. He looks like Caleb. He acts like Levi. And he has a spunk that I am pretty sure came from Katie and Bethany. He is adored by all. We all know of the email I got when I was pregnant with him, someone telling me they felt sorry for Zachary because of how he would be picked on by his older siblings. Your non-confrontational mama got extremely confrontational and typed those keys a little harder than necessary as she carefully explained that’s just not how we do it in our family. And was I right, or what? Zachary is loved by everyone. All of you fight over him. You beg for his kisses and cuddles. You insist it is your turn to sit next to him. He has all of
your our hearts wrapped around his chubby little finger.
I’ve learned a lot in these past twelve years, my sweet boys. I didn’t know how incredible it would feel to be the mother of boys. I didn’t know my heart would burst when I looked at you. I didn’t know that the snuggles of a little boy are the best drugs on the planet. I didn’t know the fun and laughter boys could bring to a family. I didn’t know I would spend time dreaming about the day when my sons are taller and stronger than me and they come home, put their arm around me and say in their deep voice, “Hey mom.” I didn’t know I would passionately pray for the women you will one day marry and hope that I can bust apart the mother-in-law stereotype. I didn’t know boys could be so sweet, so caring, so creative. I didn’t know my boys would bring me a brush and ask me to do their hair before church. I didn’t know taking two boys shopping for clothes would be so much fun. I didn’t know I could feel this way.
I never wanted to have boys, but now…
To my Cabers, my Beaver, and my Z-man: I love you with a love so deep, so fierce, so raw that there are no words that even come close to being able to describe it. To be your mother is one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given. And to think I didn’t want this…my heart trembles at the thought.